


Gamer Girl

by LeckyBoo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 20:36:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5757865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeckyBoo/pseuds/LeckyBoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean and Sam are contacted by a woman claiming to need their help, they're sceptical, until she mentions knowing their Dad. Feisty and constantly rubbing Dean up the wrong way, Riley Reckerson is a force to be reckoned with, but so are the beastly creatures that seem to follow her wherever she goes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Phone Call

**Author's Note:**

> I've only just started watching Supernatural so I'm unsure how they portray certain mythical creatures so I will improvise and use my own knowledge for now. Sorry for anything I get wrong but I'm aiming to veer off in a different direction and not follow the plots of the TV show.
> 
> I hope you like it <3

Speeding down the highway with Metallica blaring from behind closed windows, the Impala of the Winchester brothers cuts through the air towards their destination: Atlanta.

Sam's head is lolled backwards, swinging occasionally to the side before he unconsciously jerks it back. Dean drives with one hand on the steering wheel, head half resting on his other which is propped up on the door.

A loud blaring noise cuts through the heavy metal with surprising force; Deans phone shrills and buzzes in his pocket, only noticed because they were both on edge waiting for it to ring.  
Dean's hand shoots out and into his pocket, he's answered within the first ring.

"Dad?"

"Sorry to disappoint you hun, but contrary to star wars belief, I ain't your father."

It takes Dean a couple of seconds to register what the amused feminine voice has quipped into his ear before he bites out:

"Then how the hell did you get my number?" Disappointment courses through his veins and he scowls at the road, unintentionally speeding up a notch. He had been so sure it was him. Dean feels the burning stare of his brother's questioning eyes.

"From the very same Dad you thought I was a second ago."

"Sorry _hun_ ," he spits down the phone, anger getting the best of him, "But that still don't tell me who the fuck you are."

"Jesus is this how you treat all those trying to ask for your help?" The voice laughs, but the amusement's gone. "Look, your Dad said if I ever needed any help that I could call you and your brother and rely you to come to my aid. Guess chivalry doesn't run in the family."

"Our Dad said that too you?"

Sam leans forward and frantically whispers trying to grab the phone out of Dean's whitening knuckles. He jerks the phone away from Sam and accidentaly swerves the car, forcing Sam back into his seat and into holding the _Oh Shit_ handle.

"That's what I said," A crash echoes out behind her and she shouts away from the receiver, "Oh really? Really? That's the thing you decide to throw? Well jokes on you buddy I hated that vase anyway."

"Hey, hey we're not done here-"

"I know, I know it's just the thing I've called you about is getting progressively more violent. A poltergeist is hauntin-"

"Yeah, I seriously doubt that girly. Are you some chick I slept with a forgot to call so you're pranking me?"

"Hey, fuck you too man, if you want my death by an ugly vase added to your short list of life accomplishments then so be it."

Dean's nostrils flare as he sighs, teeth clenching in frustration.

"Is your brother there?"

Dean glances at Sam who straightens and mouths who is it.

"It's me you're speaking to."

"Pass me over to him, maybe then we'll get somewhere."

Grudgingly, Dean hands over his mobile mostly out of curiosity of what Sam'll think of the she-devil on the other end of the phone.

"Hey, this is Sam..." he trails off, listening intently. After a couple of minutes, he pulls out a pen and a receipt on which he writes what appears to be an address.

"Hey, hey, hey, woah. What're you dong?" Dean says, trying to read and drive at the same time.

"She's seems legit, Dean. And besides, her house is just outside Atlanta so we might as well anyway."

"We ain't got time for this bullshit, Dad's-"

"This is the first real lead we've had in weeks."

They stare each other down before Dean finally gives a tight nod in resigned agreement.

"Just hang on alright? We'll be there in an hour tops."

Dean hears a muffled reply and frowns to himself as Sam smiles and hangs up.

"Seriously Sammy? Driving to the house of a crazy one night stand?"

"I doubt this girl would put up with your attempts at flirting," Laughs Sam.

"Well maybe you should attempt flirting more and then you'd get laid." Snaps Dean, but smiles in spite of himself. He just hoped Sam was right.


	2. The Girl Herself

Pulling up outside the mysterious woman's house, Dean lets out a low whistle at the spectacle before them. Crumbling walls laced with snaking ivy and grimy windows mottled with moss made up a structure that could barely be called a house anymore. The trees around it seemed to be propping up the old two story building as if it were an old man. 

"I'm not surprised this place is haunted." Dean walks up to one of the windows and rubs a finger against the muck, pulling a face when he realises he has to wipe it on his prized leather jacket.

"Oh, so now you believe it's haunted."

"How can you not-"

The door beneath a squashed looking porch flies open and a girl comes sprinting out, jars flying after her and crashing the rotting wooden floor. Spluttering a colourful range of muttered curses she skids to a halt in front of the Impala and exclaims out loud:

"This ain't my car?" Her hands fall from where they were flailing wildly above her had to lie, dejectedly at her sides. Her blue flannel shirt hangs of her shoulder, forgotten and her hair sticking up in odd directions. She looked as if she'd had an electric shock.

"No, it's ours."

The girl spins around and ogles wide eyed at the two brothers from behind wide framed glasses. Her t-shirt underneath the flannel sports the sarcy comment of ' _you're just jealous because the voices are talking to me_ ' and her leggings are spattered with the jams thrown after her. Skinny without any noticeable cleavage, but slight curves that make her look more of a woman, Dean realises with a shock that Sam had been right. She was crazy all right, but no ex of his.  A little timid smile pulls at the corners of her full mouth, and her green, doe-like eyes darting between them. 

"You wouldn't happen to be those charming gentlemen I spoke to on the phone would you?"

"You've changed your tune." Huffs Dean, head cocked as he looks unfamiliar girl up and down, trying to gage her relation to his Dad.

"Well I can't afford to pay you back for your rudeness right now because, as I mentioned and you so politely refused to believe-"

"That's still rude-"

"There's an angry spirit haunting my house."

"Looks like it destroyed it too."

"Hey, it's rustic charm."

"Dean," Sam warns and sends a dazzling smile at the girl, "Sorry about that, we'll get right on it. What's your name by the way, forgot to ask on the phone."

"Riley, Riley Reckerson." She sticks out her hand to Sam who takes it and shakes it lightly. Dean skulks sulkily around the car and opens the boot, rooting for the required tools.

"Can you tell us anything that might help us figure out what's haunting your house?"

"Oh I know who it is."

"Okay so- wait _what_?" Sam gapes. Nobody ever knows the details this quickly into a case. Dean peers around the car, curiosity and a little calculation marking his features.

"I know who it is," She repeats, "This was my stepmother's house and when she passed without having any of her own children to give it to her father flew into a rage wherever he was.. in his grave I guess. Not honouring the family by passing it on to an outsider I suppose. Especially a girl. Sexist old git."

Sam swallowed and she reeled off the information and Dean returned to rummaging, a disbelieving smirk on his face. And yet he couldn't help but feel a little admiration for this girl and her supposed courage in the face of an angry spirit.

"Umm.. so do you mind if we have a look around?" Sam asked weakly.

"Not at all, but there's a whole bunch of shattered stuff so I'd watch your step..." She trails off and marches back into the house, only to instigate the resumption of the poltergeist's game of dodgeball with household objects.

Sam and Dean look at each other, speechless. Dean shrugs, and walks past Sam with a duffle bag filled with supplies.

"You're right, I'd never go for a chick like her."

But the fact that Dean had said that made Sam smile.

 _So he says._  

 


End file.
